Finn barely slept.
The old sword rested beside his bed inside its cracked scabbard, and every time he woke during the night, he found himself checking to make sure it was still there.
By morning, his excitement had only gotten worse.
He carried the sword outside before breakfast and immediately started practicing the swings he had imagined countless times as a child.
The real weapon was much heavier than the sticks he usually trained with, and the extra weight pulled his arms farther than he expected with every motion.
His first swing dragged him half a step forward, while the second nearly twisted the sword out of his hands.
By the fifth, his shoulders were already beginning to burn.
Finn smiled anyway and adjusted his grip before trying again.
“Are you planning to harvest the wheat with that?”
Rowan’s voice came from behind him.
Finn stopped and looked over his shoulder.
His older brother stood near the edge of the field with a hoe resting across one shoulder.
“I’m practicing.”
“You’re supposed to be helping me.”
Finn glanced down at the sword, then toward the field waiting behind Rowan.
“Right.
Sorry, I lost track of time.”
Rowan laughed.
“You can play adventurer after we finish.”
“I’m not playing.”
“Then you can seriously practice adventuring after we finish.”
Finn frowned at him but carefully returned the sword to its scabbard and carried it back inside before joining his brother.
The morning passed much slower than usual.
Finn weeded the rows, carried water, repaired a loose section of fencing, and helped Rowan move several sacks of grain into the small storage shed beside the cottage.
Normally, he did not mind the work, but every finished chore only made him think about the sword waiting inside.
More importantly, it made him think about the dungeon.
The sheep was still there somewhere, grazing on the first hill.
Finn wondered if it remembered him.
That would be silly if it did.
By midday, their father had loaded a small wooden cart with several sacks of grain, two baskets of root vegetables, and a bundle of woven goods he hoped to sell in the nearest town.
The trip would take several days.
Finn helped secure the last basket beneath a rope while his father checked the wheels.
“You’ll listen to your mother while I’m gone,” his father said.
Finn nodded.
“And help Rowan.”
“I always do.”
Rowan snorted from behind the cart.
Finn looked back at him.
“What?
I do.”
Their father ignored both of them and tightened the final knot.
“I’ll also stop by the guildhall while I’m there.”
Finn immediately looked up.
“To tell them about the dungeon?”
“Yes.”
A newly formed dungeon was something the local guild needed to know about.
Adventurers would eventually discover it anyway, and leaving one unreported could become dangerous if stronger monsters ever started wandering outside.
Finn tried not to look disappointed.
Once the guild knew, real adventurers would come.
That was probably a good thing.
Still, the quiet dungeon in the forest would no longer feel like something only he knew about.
His father seemed to notice the change in his expression.
“The guild will want someone to inspect it properly,” he said.
“That is better than guessing what is inside.”
“I know.”
“And do not rush there just because I’m gone.”
Finn looked as innocent as possible.
His father stared at him.
Finn held the expression for another second before giving up.
“I said I know.”
“That is not what I said.”
Rowan laughed again.
Finn helped push the cart onto the dirt road and watched until his father disappeared beyond the fields.
Only then did his attention drift back toward the cottage and the sword waiting inside.
Unfortunately, there were still chores to finish first.
***
Zion waited patiently for the two men to return.
At least, he had been patient at first.
They had already found his dungeon once, which meant there was no reason they couldn’t come back.
For the first several hours after they left, he stayed close to the entrance and checked every movement beyond the threshold, hoping to see the older man with the stick or the younger one with the sheep-colored hair.
But even after hours went by, no one came.
By the next morning, Zion checked the entrance less often and started checking the Founding Grace timer instead.
[Founding Grace Remaining: 11 days, 6 hours, 14 minutes]
The number made his unease worse.
He needed essence, and without essence, he couldn’t build more floors.
Every hour that passed without visitors was another hour where his protection period disappeared while the dungeon stayed exactly the same.
The sheep, meanwhile, appeared completely unconcerned.
They continued eating grass, sleeping beneath the trees, and wandering around the pond like no one had told them that their Dungeon Lord was counting down toward possible death.
Zion had started to resent how relaxed they looked.
“You know we’re all going to die if no one comes here, right?”
A sheep near the creek continued chewing.
He watched it for a moment before wishing he had eyes to roll them.
“Good talk.”
Another day passed.
The Dungeon Store was still mostly useless to him.
He could open the categories now, but everything he actually wanted was either too expensive or locked behind milestones he had not reached yet.
Even if he wanted to keep building, there was only so much he could do with the essence he had left.
For now, all he could do was wait.
Then, near midday, the small bell finally rang through the dungeon.
Ding!
Zion immediately pushed his consciousness toward the entrance as a notification appeared.
[Visitors have entered the dungeon.]
[Entry Essence acquired: 12]
He paused.
“Twelve?”
The first two visitors had only given him two essence combined.
That alone told him something was different.
Four people stood inside the entrance tunnel, and unlike the first pair, they looked prepared.
The man at the front wore a round shield on one arm and carried a short sword in the other.
His armor was a mismatched combination of leather and metal, but it covered the important parts of his body and looked well maintained.
Behind him stood a woman in lighter gear with two knives strapped at her waist.
Her eyes moved constantly across the tunnel and the pasture beyond, taking in the fences, hills, and trees.
The third carried a wooden staff and wore a dark blue traveling cloak.
A small crystal had been fixed near the top of the staff, glowing faintly with stored mana.
The last member wore pale robes beneath a leather vest and carried a simple mace at her side.
Zion inspected them closely.
He did not know their names yet, but he did not need to.
It was obvious they were clearly a real adventuring party.
He immediately felt nervous.
The four entered the pasture without the same hesitation as his first visitors.
They still inspected the terrain, but their caution looked practiced rather than fearful.
The rogue crouched beside the white fence and ran her fingers along one of the posts before standing again.
“No trap.”
The mage looked across the pasture.
“You sure this is a dungeon?”
“It’s kind of pretty.” The healer smiled sweetly, taking in a deep breath of air.
The mage pointed toward a group of sheep grazing beside the creek.
“I should bring my little sister here.
She’d love it.”
The rogue laughed.
“She could pet the monsters while we have lunch.”
Zion felt as though someone had fired an arrow directly into his skull.
A petting zoo?
They thought his dungeon was a petting zoo.
He looked across the rolling green hills, clear pond, white fencing, and sheep sleeping peacefully beneath the trees.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t even blame them.
The tank raised his shield.
“Stay focused.”
The others stopped joking almost immediately.
They looked young, and none of their equipment was particularly impressive.
The mage’s robe had even been patched near one sleeve.
Even so, the moment they began moving deeper into the floor, their formation changed.
The tank stayed in front while the healer and mage remained several steps behind him.
The rogue moved farther to one side, giving herself enough room to circle around anything that attacked the front line.
Zion’s gaze never left them.
He was positive that they had done this before.
Maybe not many times, but enough to understand the basics.
The first sheep stood on the hill ahead.
It noticed them as they approached, and Zion immediately moved his consciousness closer.
“Come on, show me what you can do.”
The sheep lifted its head.
The tank stepped forward and raised his shield.
The rogue shifted toward the right while the mage lifted his staff, pale light beginning to gather around the crystal.
The healer remained behind them with one hand already glowing faintly gold.
They were taking the sheep seriously.
For a moment, Zion felt a small burst of pride.
Then he looked at the sheep.
It was just staring at them with large, glossy eyes.
“Do something!”
The sheep chewed once.
Zion felt like crying.
“Anything!
I swear I’ll give you the greenest grass!” he pleaded.
The tank moved first.
He rushed forward and struck with the edge of his shield, knocking the sheep sideways before it could react.
The rogue appeared behind it almost immediately, one knife flashing through the air just as a bolt of pale blue magic struck from the front.
The healer did not even need to attack.
The sheep released one small, miserable cry.
“Baa!”
Then it vanished in a puff of white smoke.
Zion stared at the empty patch of grass.
That was it…
His monster had not charged, headbutted anyone, or even tried to run away.
Four adventurers had surrounded it, attacked once, and erased it from existence.
The mage lowered his staff.
“That was easier than I expected.”
The rogue wiped her knife against the grass.
“I told you.
Petting zoo.”
Zion was sure that if he had eyes he would be crying.
His thoughts immediately jumped toward the grace period timer.
If this was what happened the first time a real adventuring party entered his dungeon, then he was in much more trouble than he had imagined.
“I’m so doomed.”
There was no other conclusion.
His first line of defense were literally sheep to slaughter.
Then the rogue suddenly turned her head.
“Wait.”
Movement appeared beyond the hill.
One sheep came over the rise, followed by another.
A third appeared behind them, and within seconds, six sheep were running across the grass with their heads lowered.
A notification appeared in front of Zion.
[Pack Mentality activated.]
[Nearby flock members responding to fallen ally.]
The sheep accelerated as they crossed the open field, their hooves tearing through the grass.
Two that had been resting beneath the trees joined the charge, while another near the creek abandoned its grazing and rushed toward the group.
They were not wandering anymore.
They were angry.
The adventuring party reacted immediately.
The tank planted his feet and lifted his shield, while the rogue abandoned her wide position and moved closer to the group.
Behind them, the mage raised his staff again and the healer stepped into position.
Zion moved his consciousness closer as the sheep continued charging.
For the first time since the fight began, a shred of hope returned.
“Finally.”
Baaa~